#he'd be hotter in tears

[sandinthemachine]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS8Ua6x2f/

glad to know we're all thinking the exact same thing listening to that line

[sinning-23]

Calling Them By Their Full Name

OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy

Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious

Sorry for any spelling errors!

Luffy

-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.

-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.

-“MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”

-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got

-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.

-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.

-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.

-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.

-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long

Zoro

-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY

-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded

-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed

-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”

-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.

“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.

-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.

-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you

Sanji

-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."

-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.

-You never use his full name like that. Never.

-did he just get chills?

-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.

-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.

-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.

-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.

Bonus: Mihawk

-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.

-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.

-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand

-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!

-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.

-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.

-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.

-His look says it all. You’re screwed.

-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.

-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”

[yanderefarm]

yandere crime lord x sadistic male reader

cw;; torture, burn wounds, blood, gore, stockholm syndrome, yandere, drugs, kidnapping, murder, smoking, cruel reader

here he is.... my most fucked up bby girl. i wrote this a little differently than the others... i had a different vibe in mind.

achilles is the eldest son of a notorious mob family, the second most powerful in charge right under his father. he makes lots of big decisions, like his recent attempts to take over a smaller gang with cruelty and force. unfortunately being a sexy big shot comes with its own little vices, achilles likes smoking for instance. nasty habit especially for someone in his position, doesn't he realize how vulnerable he is when he's taking a smoke break? so easy for you to drug.

you flick some of the cigarette ash towards the man in question. he's on his knees arms tied behind his back and duct tape over his mouth. he keeps shooting you dirty looks. it's funny.

"such a waste..."

you run a red room service on the dark web. essentially, anyone with enough money can hire you to kidnap and torture whoever they want. some people hire you to make elaborate snuff videos with their desires all written out for you, other people let you and your audience decide what kind of torture would take place over your live streams. that's where the handsome man in front of you came from, the gang he'd been destroying had bought your services.

you had already explained that to him, as well as mocked him for his cigarette habit. now you were letting one of the cigarettes burn before your stream actually started, you didn't actually smoke it choosing instead to let him watch you waste it. his scowl was hot.

his screams were hotter. the first hour in, you had him covered in cigarette burns and his stomach flinching away from your touch. the second hour in, he had multiple gashes all over his trembling body. the third hour in, he had finally started to sob and his body was covered in lovely bruises.

"sorry guys, we can't kill him yet. but that means we get a toy for a little while!" you gripped his hair and brought his tear stained face up to the camera. "say goodbye to our friend!"

and that ended your first stream with your new toy. you cleaned him up and brought him to his new room.

"you'll probably be the show tomorrow unless I get another job. eat up." you gave him a nice dinner and pulled the duct tape off his mouth.

"... when will I die?"

"dunno. good work chilles, sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

that's how it began. the guy ended up being your show about half the week for the next two months. never enough to kill him and every day you cleaned up his wounds and took good care of him. he never cursed you or complained about his place he would ask you questions and thank you for the food. it was pleasant conversation, he was a nice companion in your otherwise drab life.

it was halfway into the third month when you got news that those gang members who hired you were dead. you'd been waiting the whole time for them to pay for you to kill achilles and now it was never coming. at least you made good money from your streams in the meantime.

"you're free to go." you stood in the doorway of achilles's room.

his eyes looked at you, slowly widening as he realized what you said. "wh.. why?"

"m gonna drug you up and drop you in front of your house. you won't know where you were but I'd really appreciate if you didn't try to come after me at all. "

"why are you letting me go? did something happen?"

"you should quit smoking by the way. maybe i won't be able to get you-"

you saw something in his eyes snap. those eyes that had been practically blank the whole time even when the torture made him lose his voice from screaming. now they were dark and hazy, significantly more threatening than he'd been before. he crawled on his hands and knees to your leg and looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

"why....? am i not.. did i do it wrong? i can be a good toy."

you were caught off guard by his reaction. "uh... well uh the guys who hired me like... they died without paying me to kill you. so like... i don't have a reason to keep you?"

"how much?"

"huh??"

"how much do you need to keep me?"

you reached down and gently carded your hand through his hair. "you don't want to stay here, dumbass."

"yes I do." he nuzzled his head into your hand.

"you really want to stay here and get tortured until you die? use your brain."

his darkened eyes looked up at you with the most pathetic look. "i want to stay with you."

"fuck" he's cute? he's cute. "ok...jesus, lets do this. you go home, get reunited with your family, try to get back to normal life. and I'll contact you so if you still want to be LITERALLY tortured over living your normal life I'll bring you back. ok?"

"you'll actually come get me, right?"

"yeah. I'll get you and I won't even make you pay."

"I'll be back soon." he rubbed his head against your leg. "please get your favorite tools ready."

[luveline]

PLEASE IM BEGGING I WILL SELL MY FAMILY FIR THIS

More flirty bombshell reader but Spencer was just let out of prison and now instead of just getting all hot and bothered he flirts back 😼

Love you and your writing pooks 😏😚🫶🏾

love you! fem, 1.1k

This has been the longest eighty four days of your life. Not even three months apart and yet it's felt as long and arduous as three years, and so you do what you must on the day Spencer is released from Milburn; you take your time putting yourself back together, preening and polishing, as pretty as you've ever looked. 

Penelope looks good too, JJ as well. The girls are here to represent, and that's without mentioning Luke's general unbelievable physique. 

You're pissed at being left outside but you can manage. You can cope. You don't think Penelope, bless her huge heart, is going to fight you for Spencer's attention. Not for a good five seconds. What to say first? I miss you, I love you, I'm so fucking sorry I let this happen, that I couldn't do more. 

He appears behind a grate door, Luke at his side. Then the grate is opening, JJ with tears in her eyes behind him, and every idea of what to do goes out the window. 

Your breath catches before he's so much as touched you. 

"Hey," you say. It starts well, ends weak, tears in your eyes as you choke, "hey, handsome." 

"Hey," he says, hugging you with more care than you're expecting. "Oh my god, hey." He lets out a sigh of relief, his face dipping down to press against your shoulder. You feel the familiar curve of his nose and hold your breath to stop from crying.

You let him go a selfish ten seconds later, but Spencer keeps your hand as he hugs Penelope, one-armed. It's awful and selfish and you don't care, you go in for the second hug on tiptoes, arms behind his neck, your mouth pressed as high as you can reach on his face. A mess of lip gloss is left behind when they finally crowbar you off of him long enough to get in the car, and even then you're clinging to his hand, worried someone will take him again, that you won't be able to do a thing about it. 

You wrap your arms around his and hug him on the drive back. You can't stop looking up into his face. Spencer, unflinching, meets you there, his eyes a little glassy, his face sallow but getting better. 

"Missed me?" you ask quietly. You've only so much privacy. 

"So much." 

"Like a hole in the head?" 

Spencer leans down an inch. "No, like, I really missed you." 

"Of course you did, you–" Spencer leans down suddenly and disarms you, his breath warm against your cheek. 

"I what?" he asks, kissing your cheek. 

"You haven't been away from me that long in years," you breathe. 

"It took getting used to," he says agreeably, speaking low, his breath hotter still as he kisses upward. Two kisses, that's all they are, but when he sits straight again you're thrown. 

"But you got used to it?" 

"No," he says, smiling at you like you've made a funny joke rather than thinly veiled insecurity spoken in a desperate attempt to garner some reassurance. 

It was difficult coping with the hurt of his having left you in the dark. You knew he was doing something he shouldn't have been, but you never for a moment imagined this outcome. You worried (deep down, and not for his ears) that he'd met someone new, that he'd grown disinterested in your years of love and life. Of you. Especially as he's matured, which is to say he stopped looking like he was about to walk the stage at New York Fashion week and started dressing sharp as a tack. Your Spencer stayed yours, but he got older, and you did too —you look older. You're still yourself, high maintenance, prideful, sweet, but you're not the same. 

Between the distance that bloomed with his secrecy and his growing maturity, you were caught off guard. And then not long after he was arrested in Mexico and you couldn't get him out no matter what you did, or who you begged for help. 

Spencer brings his hand to your cheek, tilting your head one way slowly, and then the other. There's confidence in his touch that you've felt before, just never to this extent. 

What happened to you? you think. 

"I'm sorry," he says. 

"For what, sweetheart?" you ask, meaning it implicitly. He's your sweetheart. He's everything. You're too high on his return to want an apology. 

"For everything. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you." 

There's something you can work with. "Oh, you will?"

"I promise." 

Mindful of your friends in the front seats, you press your cheek into his hand, turning your head just enough to touch your lips to his palm. His eyes are dark brown where they meet yours, pupil and iris one and the same. "How?" you murmur. 

Spencer brushes his thumb against your bottom lip. Something in his eyes speaks even as he stays quiet, a light, an amusement, as if to say, I know exactly what you're doing, but it won't work. 

I'm not a saint, you say back with a sheepish smile. You close your eyes and let your head fall into his shoulder. He hugs you close despite the lack of room, his chin landing atop your head gently. "You'll have to try harder," he whispers. 

"Don't know what you mean." 

"Months of missing you and the first thing you do is try to torture me." 

"That's our thing." 

"No, our thing is me worshipping the ground you walk on," he says into your hair, hand squeezing as it roves up your arm, reassuring himself that you're there, that you're real. 

"Like I wouldn't do the same if you'd let me. I would've done anything." He probably can't hear you anymore, your voice a suggestion of sound. "I would've done anything if I thought it would…" get you back to me.

Spencer does you a favour of ignoring you. Later, you know he'll bring it up again. You'll have time, because he's going home. For now he does his best to hold you together in the company of others, always thinking about what you need. "You look so pretty today. Is that for me?" 

"I always look pretty." You haven't felt it lately.

"I know. Maybe it's because I didn't see you for so long… It's like seeing you again for the first time." 

Your chest aches in a strangely nice way. "And how are you coping, handsome?" 

He rests his cheek on your forehead. On paper, you're flirting. In actuality, you're being one hundred percent honest with each other. "I'm not. My blood pressure has gotta be 180 over 110 right now."

"I love it when you talk medical to me." 

"I love you." 

You nose at his suit sleeve ineffectually "I love you." 

[solbaby7]

Heat of the Moment

rhysand x reader

warnings: smut, this is pure selfish indulgence, public masturbation 🫣, possible swearing, mildddd voyeurism (this batboy likes to watch, i’ll die on this hill), drunk swimming, nudity, kinda pervy!rhys if we’re being technical here, had to get it out my drafts sry

summary: When summer in Velaris becomes too hot to handle, you take it upon yourself to go swimming; naked—better hope no one’s watching.

—

Rhysand fucking hated the summer.

Sometimes he found beauty in the suns resplendent display during its rise and fall in the sky. Saw hints of the Mother nestled in the flowers proudly broadcasting their colorful beauty around the house’s perimeter—but that was about as far as his admiration ran.

Mostly due to the fact that Rhys absolutely abhorred the pulsing burn of the sun, its rays boiling ten times hotter when adorning the typical black of Night Court attire. He positively loathed the drifting pollen in the air that stuck to fine fabrics of his tailored suits and the humid breeze that forced an uncomfortable sweat to thicken against his skin.

Two fingers tug at the collar of his dress shirt; one, two, three buttons being yanked undone until a healthy amount of chest is exposed, inky tattoos on full display. “Anything?” Rhysand mentally sends Azriel’s way with more than a little bite in his tone but the shadowsinger doesn’t even flinch.

“It would appear a few of the wards are down.”

Even without physically seeing his brother, Rhys can picture the amused tilt of Azriel’s mouth to accompany his sarcastic tone. “No shit! It’s a hundred godsdamned degrees in this house.”

“Pampered High Lord can’t handle a little heat? Open a window. It’ll be fixed soon.”

Rhysand grumbles, eyes rolling when Azriel’s mental shields are rebuilt and fortified in an instant. He takes his advice though, sluggishly dragging across the room to open the double doors to his office balcony with more attitude than intended; the polished wood clanging against the walls.

It’s not the sound that captures the High Lords attention though.

It’s the female with her toes dipped in the water, back stretched out against the smoother parts of rock that surrounds the lake below. A towel is splayed over heat-kissed stone, a bottle of wine used to hold down one edge while a wicker basket full of chopped fruit and cubed cheeses, cured meats and crispy crackers holds down the other.

He knew he should've looked away when he realizes it was you. He should've turned around and put the image of you out of his mind so he could finish up the debilitating pile of paperwork that remained on his desk. There was so much to do—so many responsibilities to tend to and now with the wards out of place, who knew how long it could take to detect them all and fix it.

But Rhysand just can't tear his eyes off of you and that skimpy little bikini you adorned.

It's awfully dainty, with flimsy little straps and cute bows tied tightly against curvy hips in a pretty pastel purple that pops against sun-kissed skin. You've tied your hair up, a messy bun of a thing plopped at the top of your head with a bright scrunchie but a few stray curls fall free, teasing at the back of your neck and sides of your cheeks when the wind graces you with its presence; ruffling the pages of the book tucked between two fingers.

He lingers there longer than he'd care to admit, memorizing the scrunched furrow of your brow and the precious pout of your mouth. One of your hands falls carelessly to the side, occasionally reaching for a snack or a drink of wine until Rhys decides he's definitely been looming in the doorway an obscene amount of time—enough to almost feel embarrassed and maybe a little creepy when you snap your book closed.

His cheeks go red, already preparing himself for the apology you're sure to demand from him for perving on you from the balcony but when Rhysand looks down, you're still none the wiser to his presence. Though, you have carefully put your literature aside to slowly glance at your surroundings.

Rhysand pauses his retreat, now surveilling as you had, searching for the sign of life that you’d detected but no matter how far he pushes his power through the trees and forestry, over the mountains and the village surrounding it —not a single soul is identified.

You seem to come to this same conclusion and Rhys waits with bated breath as your hands curl behind your back to undo the ties of your top. “Holy gods,” The High Lord's knees physically give out when the heaving plush of your breasts are bared, his weight slumping into the outdoor lounge chair and all but whimpers at the sight of you. Absolutely ethereal, you are; a gift granted from the Mother herself--completely unaware of the beauty you behold and the lengths males would go to have such beauty latched on their arms.

The very thought of another seeing you this way has jealousy churning in Rhys' gut.

A completely different kind of heat swarms his skin as your pretty purple bottoms follow where your top is haphazardly tossed and obscene kinds of filth floods his mind; a million fantasies taking root at once until all the blood needed for his braid to exude proper common sense is rushed below his belt.

Fuck, this was so wrong but that very fact makes his cock swell further. Every nerve in his body burns, and for once Rhysand isn’t brooding about the sweltering heat or the sweat dripping down his back or the disgusting little gnats that flock around the perfectly pruned flora. Not when you're there, not quite within arms reach but plenty close enough for Rhys to make out the outline of your body from under the water.

Thick curls cling to you when you break the surface and Rhysand doesn't even think twice before his fingers are hastily undoing the button of his breeches. Teeth bite into his bottom lip as he palms his hardness through the thin material of his boxers; violet eyes darkening into a lusty aubergine.

It’s effortless, the way you cut through the stream, feet kicking against the gentle current as you bask in the feeling of weightlessness—most likely grateful for the cool calm after waking up with clothes drenched in sweat and hair sticking to your shoulders. A complete juxtaposition to the shiver that rakes down your spine from the surprisingly crisp waters, goosebumps loitering your flesh and nipples pebbling.

Rhysand tracks every move, hypnotized by the way light reflected off the high points of your features, casting sensual shadows over the shape of your hips and the ample ass behind it. Drool damn near drips down his chin when you pull yourself out, every inch of you soaking wet and glistening; womanly curves jiggling enticingly as you plop out to lay on your towel fully intending to work up an even tan.

One hand strokes at his erection, thumb collecting pre-cum and spine sinking into the chair as he feasts on the display you’ve provided. So beautiful, so soft and lovely—oh, but not quite so proper, were you?

Because, the way you trace your fingers down the line between your tits lacks anything but decorum. Legs bend at the knee for stability while you tug at a nipple, your free hand sliding down, down, down until your perfect manicure disappears between your thighs. He's completely stuck; hooked, caught like a fish on a line and you just keep reeling in him closer and closer to his demise and yet he still refuses to fight it.

The throb of his cock is nearly painful, balls swollen and grip lethal when pumping up and down the thick length. Even when his eyes go droopy and his breathing grows labored, he forces his view to remain on you and the slow roll of your hips as two fingers slowly circle around the sensitive bud of your clit.

Rhys swears that he tries to stop but he'd already fallen too far, swept up by the unsteady rise and fall of your chest and the eager spread of toned legs as you build up to that sweet release. Huffy hums of pleasure drifts up into his ears like sweet music and while he wouldn't have considered himself a melomaniac; he could see the obsession forming if it was your voice carrying the melodies.

Velvety skin shifts with each desperate pump, thumb applying pressure just under the defined mushroom head of his prick when Rhys realizes the noises have stopped—your pretty moans and the slick sounds of your pussy no longer drifting his way.

"And here I thought a High Lord was supposed to hold himself with some sort of decorum,” Every muscle in Rhysand’s body locks at the sound of your voice, its cadence much closer than before and entirely too smug when you take in the leaking throb of his erection. Hands seize their stroking and Rhysand can't fucking fathom the fact that he'd allowed his imagination to run so wild—to distract him so intensely that he'd been sloppy enough to get caught.

He hadn't even heard you enter the room. Hadn't detected the familiar itch of one winnowing around his territory. You'd utterly blindsided him, a hot flush billowing into his cheeks, "I was just—“

"Watching me," You swiftly intercede, completely confident before him with your body free of periwinkle restrictions. "Instead of finishing that mountain of paperwork you've been ignoring."

"I got a little distracted." Mischief swells in your eye at the rough tone of his voice and it’s no secret your affect on him. Rhysand’s jaw was clenched tightly with barely contained restraint as he forces himself to focus on the lush green grass or the chirp of the birds wrestling in the trees instead of the soft swell of your belly and the supple curve of your thighs that sits right in his line of sight. “And you’re not exactly making it easy to pay attention to anything but you.”

“Good,” You all put preen under the compliment. "The harder the better." A sharp inhale is sucked through his nose when one knee drops to the free space of his chair. You hover over him, perky tits right in his face as you take your sweet ass time getting comfortable in his lap. It's bold; intrusive even—you plopping the weight of your ass against his thighs as you ease his hand aside and replace it with your own. "All the fun is in the challenge."

And what a challenge it would be taking such a massive cock.

It's really fucking pretty though. Hard to the touch and soft as silk. It pulses in your grasp, twitching when you give an experimental squeeze and Rhysand nearly finishes on the spot when you peer at him through thick lashes. Lust swims in your vision, aroused by the scenes from your book read by the lake and the added eroticism that ensued once realizing you weren't alone--that there was another watching you as you'd undressed. "Fucking filthy thing, you are." Rhys grunts as your thoughts consume him, abdomen contracting involunentarily as he submits to the overwhelming high that comes with your touch.

"Says you," Your wet hair drips a puddle by his shoes, liquid bouncing off polished leather as your hips shamelessly roll, grinding down along the muscular ridges of his thigh through his breeches, pussy clenching around nothing at the delicious friction. “Those expensive tutors forget to teach you that’s it’s not polite to spy on a lady?”

"They did," Never once had it taken Rhysand so long to conjure up a witty remark, "—but it's been a while since I’ve attended my lessons." The warmth from between your legs and the hypnotic bounce of your breasts is enough to turn him dumb. All the overstimulated High Lord can offer up is deep grunts and choppy pants through garbled praises and pleas for more as you have your way with him. You don't even have to bother tugging his pants down all the way, plenty satisfied with only unvieling the goods.

"Sounds like you need a refresher on manners." Consent is granted in the way Rhys’ hands grip at your hips, guiding you up, up, up until your dripping sex hovers over his own and when he and you finally connect—every movement turns desperate.

“Oh fuck,” He chokes out, starving hands feasting at your figure, ravishing every curve and devouring every sound you offer. It had to have something to do with the heat; this all-consuming hunger that burns beneath your skin and just engulfs everything in sight until all sense of rationality and logic had melted to mush.

“Better than your hands, huh?” It takes everything in you to keep your words steady, to keep your thighs sturdy and rhythm in tune as you rock your hips; experimenting with the feeling of such fullness. “Was this what you were thinking about when you were perving on me? How I’d feel wrapped around you? How far I could take you?” Fingers bite into your waist, it’s sure to leave bruises and yet you can’t find it in yourself to give a shit when you’re so preoccupied with sucking up every fucking inch Rhys had to offer. The noises that rumbles through the air is guttural, animalistic; stained with desire and a mind numbing need that triggers that possessive Illyrian blood within him and when his hips shift, feet planting more sturdy against the ground—you know you’re screwed.

Truly, undeniably fucked.

Because with each sharp thrust he offers, your cocky demeanor fades away. “Was thinking about how you’d sound and the noises you’d make for me.” The control shift is palpable even in your state, hazy eyes catching the second a flustered Rhys eases into the role of High Lord, weilder of a great power that he clearly knew how to manipulate. “Can’t say, I’m disappointed.”

[noyasmashing]

I believe sperm retention is good for men's health so that's the plot line. We are always so kind and gentle with Tamaki(Amajiki) but today we want to test how good of a boy he truly is. We tell him that today he isn't allowed to cum at all and if he succeeds we will be so proud of him, but if he fails he will get his first punishment. Hope he's a good boy :(

Can we get hcs pretty please? *Bats my pretty lashes*

★ NOT AT ALL. tamaki!

• warning: Tamaki Amajiki + gn!dom reader, edging, praise, lots of dirty talk, mentions of punishments and spanking.

• author note: no proof read for this one 😔 sorry for being so inactive, once I’m not traveling so much I promise I’ll be able to post more often.

Tamaki's stomach would doing flips at the thought of surrendering his pleasure, a concept he'd never experienced before. He does the most to obey your demands, even if it meant embarrassing himself. But this was the first time he'd been asked to give up his own pleasure, and it left him distraught. His face would be contorted in a mixture of pouts and whimpers, his eyes welling up with tears as he clutched at your hips in desperation.

Initially, Tamaki would likely protest vehemently, as the idea of sperm retention obviously a punishment. However, if you insisted, he would have no choice to obey you. Despite the struggle it would be for him, the thought of you having full control over whether he can climax or not is a major turn on for him. The possibility of receiving praise if he does manage to succeed adds to the excitement. Let alone the idea of you being proud of him is enough to prevent him from ejaculating, no matter how much he desires to do so.

Alternatively, he might not be able to contain his orgasm and ends up coming all over his sad little tummy :( Even though he might find pleasure in the punishment you administer, he would feel extremely guilty. He would immediately break down in tears, whimpering and apologizing for his actions, promising to be a good boy. However, deep down, he enjoys the idea of defiance and rough treatment, as long as he ends up being your good boy by the end of the night. Though the punishment wouldn't be overly harsh, he would take it with equanimity, counting each spank and murmuring "sorry" and "thank you" in between.

"Have you gotten way too spoiled?" you asked, your voice warm and gentle as your finger continued to caress the fabric of his clothes, tracing the outline of his cock.

The shy boy shook his head, still avoiding eye contact. "Have you gotten… pretty spoiled?" you asked, your tone softening as you drew a little closer to him.

His ears flushed a deeper crimson as he nodded almost imperceptibly, the slightest movement betraying his admission. "Yeah?" you cooed, coaxing him to speak up, though he couldn’t find the courage to.

You exhaled a soft sigh, tracing the contours of his tip with your finger, moving at a torturously slow pace. "Do I need to be rougher with you?" you breathed, your question laced with a hint of curiosity.

His lip curled downward at the suggestion, and he subtly pushed into your hand, as if seeking more. "Meaner," he corrected, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you want me to be meaner?"

This time, he nodded, his gaze locked on yours, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as they seemed to glaze over and dilate. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Yeah?"

As shame began to dissipate, he nodded more resolutely, a soft "please" escaping his lips, his tone laced with a hint of desperation.

You leaned in, your voice low and husky, "Please, what?" as you settled onto his thighs, pinning him in place to prevent him from squirming away. He paused, his eyes cast downward, his face growing hotter by the second as he struggled to find the courage to speak his desires. The words finally emerged, hesitantly forced out: "Please...can...can we do more?" His hand slowly going to cover his face, as if trying to conceal the vulnerability that had taken over.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you gently pulled his hand away, forcing his teary gaze to meet yours. "No coming tonight, Tamaki," you stated firmly, your nails digging lightly into his wrist.

His face contorted in confusion, a pitiful puff of air escaping his lips as he whispered, "W-what?" His eyes searched yours, seeking clarity.

You leaned in closer, your voice taking on a calm, deliberate tone. "Let's see if you're really a good boy," you said, your hand drifting over his chest as you watched his expressive face cycle through a gamut of emotions. "You're not getting to cum tonight, understand?"

Tamaki's whiny voice cracked as he asked, "L-like... not at all?" His words were laced with a mixture of disappointment and longing.

“Like not at all.” repeated, your voice dripping with a warm, sadistic sweetness. "But don't worry, if you behave, I'll give you a very nice reward," you purred, leaning down to gently lick his pink nipple.

Tamaki let out a strained moan, struggling to find his voice. "And what if I...do?" he asked, his breathy words tumbling out as he gazed up at you with a pout.

You paused, weighing your options with deliberate slowness. "Then," you said, your tone turning stern, "I'll have to punish you."

Tamaki's whine was almost inaudible as he protested, "Why are you being so mean to me?" He sank deeper into the pillows, his face hidden from view as he sought to escape his embarrassment.

“I thought you asked me to be meaner to you, was I wrong?” you teased, slowly pulling down his clinging boxers to finally release his rigid cock. Tamaki's gaze dropped to his stomach, and he looked at himself with a mixture of self-pity and resignation as he anticipated the marathon of edging you had in store for him tonight.

A small, involuntary whimper escaped his lips as he lifted his gaze to yours, his clumpy lashes fluttering as he gazed up at you with pleading eyes. You grasped the base of his cock, and began to pump your fist in a slow, deliberate motion. Tamaki's hips twitched in response, and he watched with a pout as you let a droplet of saliva slide down the length of his shaft, making him squirm.

"Stay still for me, baby," you coaxed, your wrist moving in a slow, sensual arc as you reached the tenderest part of his cock. His hand clamped down on your wrist, his head thrown back in a moan of pleasure as you stroked his most sensitive spot.

"I-I...," he gasped, his words trailing off between ragged breaths, "I can't...I'm close."

Your pace slowed imperceptibly, and a soft coo of sympathy escaped your lips. "Ah, already? I see my words got you excited," you said, batting your lashes with a wicked smile. "Do you want to be punished?"

Tamaki's whine was like a protest, his hand reaching behind him to grasp the sheets as if seeking support. "N-no," he argued, his hips subtly buckling into your hand as if trying to pull away from the impending orgasm.

You let out a soft sigh, your hand trailing off to caress his sacs. Tamaki's tension eased, and he reached out with a hand, his fingers closing around yours in a gentle grasp. "Hold?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across your face as you gazed at his blushing cheeks. "Oh, you want to hold my hand? How sweet," you teased, your tone dripping with amusement.

Tamaki's arm shot up to cover his face once more, but it didn't stay there for long. His hand quickly reasserted itself, gripping the sheets as if seeking grounding as you began to stroke him again. Beads of pre-cum formed on his length, trickling down his shaft like tiny rivers as you focused your movements on the pink, puffy tip.

As you continued to tease him, you posed the question aloud, more for the pleasure of watching him squirm than any genuine interest in his opinion. "What do you think would be a fitting punishment?" you mused, your grip on his base tightening as you felt his cock throb with desire at the very thought of it. "Should I deny you touch for a week?" You suggested, your voice low and husky, the words sending shivers down Tamaki's spine.

"No," Tamaki protested, his head shaking rapidly from side to side.

You pouted, your smile twisting into a wicked grin. "Oh, come now, don't be shy. A little spank might do you some good," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "You might just turn bright red."

Tamaki's embarrassment began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of urgency as he felt his orgasm building. He was desperate to come, and the thought of being spanked only added to his arousal. His resolve crumbled, and he let out a strained "I'm getting close" as his hips bucked upward in search of relief.

As you withdrew your hand from his cock, Tamaki let out a soft moan, his body surrendering to the pleasure that had been building inside him. His face flushed with shame and excitement, he lay there, helpless and exposed, as the orgasm disappeared.

If you repeat this with him enough, you might just break him. The poor boys brain would dissolve into mush faster than you make think. His skin would be flushed, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, and tears streaming down his face. His thighs trembling with each touch, as if the physical sensation was too much to bear. The pain would be almost unbearable, yet his body would crave release more than anything.

If you spoke words of encouragement, all he would manage would be a numb nod, his mind consumed by the desperate desire to come. From that point on, there were only two paths open to him: succumb to the inevitable and let go, risking failure and the agony of delay; or grit his teeth and push through the pain, earning your praise and attention.

I believe he would be more likely to listen to you, no matter how bad it hurt. Solely because he enjoys being pampered more than anything. Any sort of torture is worth a cold shower with you. He would already be fantasizing about you scrubbing his back and telling him how proud you were of him, how he was yours, and only yours.

Oh, but I do think that if sperm retention became a habit, he might “accidentally” cum, just to see where it gets him.

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

Luke’s had a crush on you for longer than he can remember, and after Chris decided to play one sided cupid, he decides to ask you out.

warnings: use of yn, kinda shy!luke and loser!luke but we love it <3, fluff

₊˚⊹♡

Luke led Percy, the new kid, through the dusty maze of Camp Half-Blood. Percy peppered Luke with questions once in a while. "So, who are those hulking dudes with Clarisse?" Percy asked.

Luke chuckled. "Those are the Ares kids, her half-brothers. But don’t worry, they're all bark and no bite... actually, they do bite."

As they rounded a corner, the sounds of clashing metal and grunts reached their ears. Luke stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze snagging on a particular figure in the training field.

There, bathed in sunlight, you were training. Your form, clad in the simple camp T-shirt and shorts, moved with the fluid grace of a warrior dancer. Every swing of your practice sword, every parry, was a testament to your skills that stood out. Your hair whipped around your face as you disarmed your opponent with a swift kick.

Percy, oblivious to Luke's sudden paralysis, glanced between him and the scene playing out on the field. "Who's that?" he asked, curiosity creasing his brow.

Luke cleared his throat, trying to dispel the sudden fog clouding his brain. "That's-, uh, yn" Luke stammered, his voice rougher than usual. “Aphrodite´s kid. Don´t let her looks fool you, though. She´s a hell of a warrior”

Percy nodded, but his gaze remained firmly on you. You were now sheathing your celestial bronze sword, a bead of sweat clinging to your temple. As you reached for a nearby water flask, you brushed the hair from your face, the gesture casual yet captivating.

Luke found himself staring again, just like he does every time he looks at you from afar, mesmerized by the way the sunlight seemed to follow your tiniest movements. He was so lost in the moment that he barely registered the volleyball hurtling towards him.

"Yo, Luke! Catch!" someone yelled. Luke, still mesmerized, couldn't react in time. The ball connected with a resounding thump right in his gut.

He doubled over with a groan, clutching his stomach. A familiar chuckle reached his ears as Chris strolled over containing a hysterical laugh.

"Sorry man, had to snap you out of that trance" Chris said with a smack to Luke’s back.

Luke's face burned hotter. He hadn't realized how blatantly obvious he'd been. Straightening up, he attempted to mask his flustered expression. "Shut up, I wasn't in a trance" he retorted, his voice a shade higher than usual.

“You totally were” Chris poked him playfully. “You are every time you look at her.”

“Okay, okay” Luke swatted Chris’s hand away, “stop touching me.”

Chris, ignoring his protests, squeezed his arm with mock sympathy. “Aw, don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not a baby,—”

"When did the mighty Luke Castellan become all weak and whiny for a girl?" Chris teased, playfully tousling Luke's hair.

Luke swatted his hand away again. "Hey! I'm not—!"

“Hey” a causal feminine voice cut him off.

Luke freezes. You stood mere inches away, your smile widening at the sight of his flustered expression. "H-hey" he managed, his voice barely confident, and shaky.

Chris stifled a snort, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. Luke shot him a withering glare, silently pleading for him to cut it out.

“You alright?” you ask, "I saw the, uh..." You paused, gesturing vaguely with your hand in the direction of Chris. "The volleyball-, greeting?" you ask, a confused but fun expression on your face.

"Yeah, I'm fine" he offered, his voice strained. "Just a love tap, I guess." Another pointed glance in Chris' direction revealed him struggling for composure.

"Looks like you're busy" you said, your gaze flickering to Percy, who stood awkwardly to the side. You offered him a warm smile.

"Right, yeah" Luke stammered, finally managing to tear his gaze away from you. He remembered Percy standing awkwardly beside him. "Percy, this is yn, Aprhrodite´s cabin" he gestured towards you, his voice regaining a semblance of normalcy. "yn, this is Percy, the new camper."

"Nice to meet you" you greeted him, your voice laced with a kindness that put Percy instantly at ease.

"Nice to meet you too" Percy stammered back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"You're lucky," you continued, turning back to Luke, your eyes sparkling. "Luke’s the best counselor around, especially for new campers."

Luke felt a familiar heat rise in his cheeks at your praise. He always struggled with compliments, especially when they came from you. "Ah, don't listen to her" he stammered, deflecting awkwardly.

"Oh, don't be so humble" you teased, your playful tone sending shivers down his spine. "You know you are. You helped me out a lot when I was new."

Your words hung in the air, causing another wave of warmth to flood his cheeks. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. But he forced himself to focus, so he turned to Percy. "yn's always around the training field," he began, his voice a touch higher than normal. "So if you ever need a sparring partner or just someone to answer questions, you can find her here."

You raised an eyebrow playfully. "Coming from 'Best Swordsman' himself" you said, a teasing lilt in your voice.

His cheeks burned even hotter, but a genuine chuckle escaped his lips. "Alright," he conceded, his lips curving into a small, charming smile. "that might be true."

"Humble much?" Chris chimed in, ever the opportunist. He tossed the ball towards Luke's head, light and playful.

Luke turned around to Chris, “Dude” he calls. He hears your slight giggle from behind.

"Well, I gotta get back to training" you sighed, a hint of regret in your voice. You turned towards Percy, your smile warm and genuine. "Percy, if you ever need anything and Luke's not around, you can just look for me, okay?"

Percy, still a bit overwhelmed by the new environment, managed a hesitant nod. "Okay, thanks" he mumbled, a shy smile gracing his features.

"I'll see you around then" you chirped, offering him a final wave of encouragement. "Good luck with everything, alright?" As you turned to walk away, with a final glance towards Luke over your shoulder, a hint of something unspoken lingering in your eyes. "Bye, Luke."

The simple farewell hung in the air long after you'd disappeared. Chris nudged Luke's arm with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "You're so into her, man" he declared, barely containing his smile.

Luke groaned. "Shut up" he muttered, his voice betraying a hint of amusement.

They continued walking. "I mean it! You were practically stuttering" Chris exclaimed, his voice laced with mock horror as he reenacted Luke's awkward greeting. "'Uh, h-hi yn, uh-, y-yeah, I'm camp's best swordsman'"

"Okay, I do not act like that" Luke protested, his voice laced with mock indignation. He glanced down at Percy, a playful glint in his eyes. "Help me out here. Do I really talk like that?"

"Well," he admitted with a shrug, "maybe a little."

Luke groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. He playfully shoved Chris, who burst into fresh laughter. "See!" Chris crowed. "Even new kids thinks you’re like a lovesick puppy around her."

Luke shot a playful glare at Percy. "Don't listen to him, he’s full of crap” he muttered, though a hint of a smile played on his lips.

"Seriously, though," Chris continued, his voice turning serious for a moment. "Just ask her out already. She'll say yes."

Luke hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. "I don't know, man" he trailed off, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Chris slung an arm around Luke's shoulder. "Dude, you've been practically drooling over her since forever. And trust me, she's totally noticed. You gotta take a chance. Besides, I have a feelings she feels the same way." Chris added. He suddenly launched into a dramatic impersonation, his voice taking on a high-pitched tone. "'Oh, bye Luke,' " he whined, twirling a nonexistent strand of hair around his finger and swaying his hips in a comical exaggeration. "'He's the best counselor at camp, oh! He helped me sooo much!'"

Luke cringed, his face burning a mixture of laughter and embarrassment. "Okay, that´s enough". Chris's words, though delivered in a ridiculous way, struck a chord within Luke. He looked down at his shoes, suddenly feeling doubtful. "I just don't know..." he mumbled, the confidence Chris had tried to instill in him wavering. "What if she says no?"

Chris stopped his antics, his playful grin softening into a reassuring smile. He patted Luke on the back. "What if she says yes?" he countered. "Stop overthinking it, man. Go for it."

Luke chuckled, the sound laced with a hint of nervousness. Chris's teasing, although annoying, had pushed him to confront his feelings. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and met Chris's gaze.

"Fine, fine" he conceded. "I'll give it a shot. But if she says no," he warned, his voice laced with seriousness, "I'm blaming it all on you."

Chris threw his head back and roared with laughter. "The risk I'm willing to take for you, my friend"

Luke shoved him playfully, a grin plastered on his face. "Yeah, yeah, now scoot," he urged, gesturing towards the direction Chris had come from. "I gotta keep showing Percy around."

Chris mock saluted him. "Aye aye, Captain! Good luck!" he chirped, throwing a wink Luke's way before sauntering off, leaving him alone with Percy.

A blush crept up Luke's neck as he turned back to Percy. "Sorry about that" he mumbled, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, he was sure a twelve year old wasn’t entirely interested in Luke’s love interest.

Percy didn’t seem to care. "Honestly," he admitted, "that's the most normal thing I've witnessed today. So," he continued, his curiosity piqued, "what's next?"

The flickering firelight danced across Luke's face, casting long, flickering shadows as he stared intently into the flames. He wasn't really seeing or listening anything around him – his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and anxieties, all centered around you.

All day, he’s had you on his mind, a constant reminder of the decision he'd almost made. Since that first glimpse of you years ago by the lake, you'd become a captivating melody in the symphony of his life. Unlike other Aphrodite children, rumored to be arrogant or aloof, you possessed a genuine warmth that never failed to draw him in. Braiding little girls' hair with a gentle smile, your actions were a window into your kind soul.

It had been a long day, filled with his usual camp duties and a nagging restlessness that he couldn't quite shake. Chris's words echoed in his head, a constant reminder of the decision he still hadn't made. Should he really take a chance? Could you possibly be interested in him?

A deep sigh escaped his lips. He glanced up, his gaze drawn towards the sound of laughter that sent a familiar shiver down his spine. There you were, surrounded by your friends. Your face glowed in the warm light, illuminated by the cheerful flames that danced around you.

A sudden sense of purpose washed over him. He couldn't stay silent anymore. But a fresh wave of fear washed over him too, as he considered the setting. Here, surrounded by campers that could hear, was hardly the ideal place to confess his feelings.

He stood up, sticking a marshmallow to the end of the stick he was holding and walked closer to the fire. And he stood there, a solitary figure amidst the chatter and laughter, his mind racing with a thousand different scenarios. Just as he was about to convince himself to wait for another opportunity, a soft footstep beside him startled him out of his thoughts. He kept his eyes trained on the fire, afraid to look up, afraid his nervousness would be telegraphed in his gaze.

Because he knew, it was you.

A small, shy smile played on your lips as you looked at him, your eyes reflecting the flickering flames. "Hey," you said softly. "You okay?"

Your sudden presence sent a jolt through Luke. His heart, already hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, stuttered in its beat. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to appear composed.

"Yeah, I'm alright" he managed, his voice a touch hoarse. "Just needed a little distraction."

He turned slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. The firelight danced in your eyes, casting playful shadows across your face. He found himself mesmerized, lost in the warmth of your smile and the depths of your gaze.

"Too many counselor duties?" you teased gently.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, the sound laced with a nervous tension. "Can get pretty tough sometimes, you know" he admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Responsibility and all that."

He turned back to you, his eyes meeting yours again. This time, he held the gaze a beat longer, the air crackling with a sudden, unspoken energy. He felt himself drawn to you, captivated by the beauty of your features.

"I understand" you whisper. There was a subtle shift in your posture, a subtle lean closer that mirrored his own. "How's Percy doing?" you asked, changing the subject, leaning your own marshmallow into the fire.

"He's holding up well" Luke responded, a hint of pride in his voice. "Just, like everyone does when we arrive here."

You breathed out a small smile. "That's good to hear." A moment of comfortable silence followed, broken only by the crackling fire and the occasional chirp of crickets. “Any ideas on who his father might be?" you finally asked, your voice filled with curiosity.

Luke pondered your question, his gaze flickering between the flames and your inquisitive face. "Honestly, no clue yet" he admitted, shaking his head slightly. "He doesn't quite fit in with any of the cabins. But we'll figure it out."

"Poor kid" you murmured, a flicker of sympathy crossing your features. "I really hope he doesn't end up unclaimed."

As if sensing the shift in mood, Luke shifted his position, his body turning slightly more towards you. The warmth of your presence radiated beside him.

"Don't worry" he said softly. "He'll be alright. We'll make sure of it."

You nodded silently, blowing gently on your marshmallow to cool it down a little. The playful banter had momentarily distracted you from the nervous tension that had been building in Luke's chest.

A playful smirk tugged at Luke's lips. "Actually," he began, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, "he reminds me a little bit of you."

Your head snapped up, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. "What? Why?"

He chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "I don't know," he feigned contemplation, drawing out the suspense before shrugging lightly. "He just gives off the same 'new and confused' vibe you had when you first arrived at camp." He says, "And," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "he seems to have a knack for getting himself into trouble just like a certain someone I know."

You swatted him lightly on the arm, a playful frown creasing your forehead. "Hey" you exclaimed, feigning offense. "When did I ever get myself into trouble?"

Luke scoffed. "Oh, come on, don't be so modest" he countered, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I still remember how you managed to get into that fight with that Ares kid."

"Well, he wouldn't leave me alone" you mumbled, your voice laced with a hint of defiance. "Someone had to teach him a lesson."

“And your solution was to throw Pegasus' shit at him?" he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Well," you stammered, trying to defend yourself, but the vividness of the memory left little room for argument. "Yeah, okay" you finally admitted with a small defeated voice.

Luke shook his head in mock disapproval, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Sometimes I wonder why I even put up with you" he joked, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"No one's asking you to stay" you countered playfully, returning his teasing smile. "You're free to leave anytime."

Luke's laugh filled the air once more, a welcome sound that calmed the nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"Wouldn't dream of it" he replied, his voice turning a touch softer. And he didn’t mean to say it, but it came out unwarranted. He met your gaze, holding it for a beat longer than usual.

You noticed the shift in his demeanor, a subtle change. You let out a small, nervous chuckle, breaking eye contact and turning your gaze back towards the dancing flames.

Luke couldn't help but notice your nervous gesture, but instead of taking it as a sign of rejection, he interpreted it as a reaction to his own sudden boldness, even though his heart was down his ass.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to take the plunge. There was no turning back now. "Hey," he began softly, his voice barely a whisper above the crackling fire. "Can I ask you something?"

You met his gaze, a nervous flutter in your stomach mirrored by the rapid beat of your heart. Tentatively, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a self-conscious gesture that only accentuated your beauty in Luke's eyes.

"Yeah, sure" you replied.

Luke cleared his throat again, trying to mask the nervous tremor in his voice. "I, uh," he stammered, "I-, I was wondering if you... would like to go out with me? Sometime?"

The nervousness in his voice was impossible to miss, but it was the spark of hope in his eyes that truly captured your attention. You couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for him. There he was, this strong, capable counselor, reduced to a blushing mess in front of you.

At that moment, the world around him seemed to fade away. All that existed was you. The oversized grey sweatshirt you wore hung loosely on your frame, making you appear smaller, more vulnerable. Even without makeup, your beauty was undeniable, a captivating mix of strength and softness that had him completely enthralled.

You looked at him. Silence stretched between you, thick with anticipation. Luke held his breath, his palms slick with nervous sweat. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your answer.

Then, slowly, the corners of your lips began to curve upwards. A smile. A genuine, radiant smile that lit up your entire face and sent a wave of warmth through him.

Luke's heart leaped in his chest, but before he could react, a soft laugh escaped your lips. The sound washed over him, chasing away his anxieties and replacing them with a soaring sense of elation. The blush creeping up your cheeks confirmed it – he wasn't imagining it.

He rushed to speak, the words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "I know that-, this is something you're kinda used to" he stammered, his voice laced with nervousness. "Getting asked out, I mean. It's just... I don't know, I- you-"

He stopped mid-sentence, frustration causing him to sigh in defeat. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a defeated, "Shit" under his breath. Which only made you laugh harder.

It was like a symphony to his ears. He couldn't help but smile back, even with the butterflies doing a frantic tap dance in his stomach. "Sorry" he mumbled sheepishly.

"Don't – don't be sorry” you chuckled, waving your hand dismissively. "You're good." The laughter subsided, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. But to Luke's anxious mind, the silence stretched into an eternity, filled with the dread of having somehow messed this whole thing up.

Just as despair threatened to engulf him, you spoke. "Yes" you said, your voice soft but firm. "I'd love to."

Luke stared at you, momentarily speechless. His brain, overloaded with disbelief and unexpected joy, struggled to form a coherent response.

"Really?" he finally managed. It was a question loaded with disbelief and pure, unadulterated happiness.

"Yeah" you laughed, nodding your head as if he'd asked the most ridiculous and obvious question. "When?" you countered, playfully turning the tables on him.

"Uh..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair in a fluster. "Shit, sorry," he stammered again. "I just – I didn't think you'd actually say yes, so I haven't really thought that far ahead." His confession only made you laugh harder.

A nervous laugh escaped Luke's lips as he ran a hand through his hair. Honestly, he couldn't believe his own luck.

"I'll give you some time to think about it if you want” you said, your voice laced with amusement and comfort.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. That sounds good" he stammered, his flustered response betraying the excitement bubbling over in his chest.

The comfortable silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the crackling fire and the occasional pop of a burning marshmallow. You both seemed content to simply bask in the warmth of the fire and the newfound connection you shared.

Just as Luke was about to break the comfortable silence, a voice cut through the air. "Hey, yn!" a familiar voice called out.

You turned your head towards the sound, a smile gracing your lips. "Right, uh..." you trailed off, turning back to Luke. "I gotta get back."

A brief pang of disappointment shot through Luke, but it was quickly overshadowed by the excitement bubbling within him.

"Go ahead” he replied with a smirk. "Don't keep her waiting."

You took a step back, but before turning to leave, you locked eyes with him.

"Don't keep me waiting" you said, your voice soft but firm.

The playful challenge in your words sent a new wave of butterflies fluttering in his stomach and lower.

A bigger smile stretched across Luke's face as he watched you walk away, the firelight casting a warm glow on your figure. "I won't”.

[anantaru]

DAY 20 — DACRYPHILIA

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

kink. dacryphilia — enjoyment or arousal from tears and crying

𖧡 — including — neuvillette, diluc, baizhu

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, dacryphilia, just tears everywhere /hj, handjob, overstimulation, oral (fem! receiving), thigh riding

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

neuvillette felt like your clasp on his skin gave him some kind of nurture that changed his complete body and its upheaved reactions.

was he burning inside the limits of his body right now? was he igniting underneath his soul? no, of course not, but he sure felt that way, primarily because of the way you were expertly rolling your palm over his flaring erection— with the weight of your hand on him now, he simply cannot move an inch, light as your trace may be, he cannot even breathe evenly.

his warm cum was smeared everywhere around your hand and glissades down your tensed knuckles, and he's still dripping in it when he leans his head back before huffing out shakily, scrunching his eyes together as he perceives a mischievous grin manifesting on your joyful expression.

it feels good, for the both of you, absolutely intoxicating, to have this sort of power over an individual such as neuvillette, and you slant your head a little forward whilst picking up the tempo on your palm, fisting his large cock in your hand and curving your wrist ever so often to add a slight twist into your movements. you muse, kissing his cheek before he returns your gaze eagerly— his blasted, glistening, pleading eyes normally untouched, although now crowded with hot tears drizzling down his scarlet cheeks which radiated eminently through his pale complexion.

"do you want me to stop?" you coo, and smirk right after to fill him with some sort of frustration, or at least that he'll end up pondering deeply on where you got that honeyed, sweltering audacity to ask him such unfathomable question. neuvillette inhales inside his chest, before coughing out into his fist as to somewhat dampen down the obvious mess of himself before rummaging his large hand over your thigh to squeeze it and release a little pressure off his groin.

he shakes, almost winces when you add additional relish on him length, precisely every time you'd slide over his red tip which was practically swelling to the hilt, "of- of course," he speaks in between desperate noises and coughs before opening his mouth to add onto his words without anything really falling from the tip of his tongue.

ugh, he's so pretty, so handsome and cute when he's crying all over himself due to your skilled thrusts and caring on his shaft and you can only imagine how the weather in fontaine must look like right now.

all you can do is giggle sweetly at him before planting another kiss on his dampened cheek, the slightly curved slopes of his cock like putty in your hands as you sensed that he was just about to cum— he was so close, the erratic rutting into your hand, his hips pushing and twitching upwards to catch your pace halfway and the strengthening squeeze on his hand on your thigh revealed as much as they could.

so, well, what happened next? you naturally gave neuvillette what he yearned for, loud, penetrating noises of smack, smack, smack's demolishing his sensitive hearing abilities as his face grew even hotter, the shattering hue of red growing into a darkened vermillion before he cums at last, wrinkling his nose in concentration and leaking of creamy, white cum, shooting it all over your hand and his lower stomach until it dribbles all the way to his scrunched up slacks hanging loosely around his thighs.

there's still so much more and neuvillette empties himself out with whispery grunts and wet ruptured moans, hard and without shame, although you knew he'd be embarrassed right after he'd witness the utter mess he made, or listen to the growing storm outside.

𖧡 — DILUC

diluc's dark intensity takes shape over your complete figure as he first settles in between your thighs before carefully placing each leg on his shoulders— your hands already balling into the cecilia flower scented sheets when he first, skillfully flicks his tongue over the sensitive bead in between your folds, slurping up the taste of your arousal.

the curved ending of his tongue digs into all the right places, and diluc gradually applies more and more pressure with his wicked muscle working wonders until you practically scream at the top of your lungs, your pleasure entirely centered on you, diluc made sure of that, and the stimulation of the roughness on your sensitivity through the wetness of your slick and his saliva just got better and better, even more precise when he penetrates your hole and gathers your slick on him— he's so obsessed with how you taste on him he could cum just from that, just from having himself soiled with your arousal all over.

diluc wantonly moans into your sopping cunt and teasingly nibbles down on your folds to contain some of his passion bundled up inside the flesh before looking up between your thighs, his own erection pushing the limits of his self control, close to showing the red tip at the top of his waistband. yet, when he suddenly witnesses the current state you were in, he almost touches the threshold of his solid self restraint and could cum from nothing but your writhing figure.

at first, a single crystalline pebble rolls down your cheek, before you're whimpering again at his tongue thrusting into your hole, additional tears sizzling from your eyes just like fumes from a camp fire as diluc unquestionably marvels at this whimpering echo from you— it's almost embarrassing and he wouldn't confess it to you, ever, but the thought that he was responsible for this, making you cry out of sheer pleasure that only he was allowed to place on you was thoroughly surreal and maddening.

he continues to drag the flat of his tongue over your dripping cunt as you practically cling and ride his face, sucking in your chest and arching your back before your mouth gapes open, letting out an excess of moans and whines with each flick of his tongue being reviving in nature, your blood shot eyes blurred and making it unable for you to properly gaze down at him, yet you do not mind— because your reactiveness to his tongue moving at the speed of molasses brought the immediate reaction of yearning and enjoyment to your lower region, the thudding bolt located inside your belly growing and growing, yearning to snap in half.

and your tears, so warm and comforting, glide gently down your cheekbones and the beauty of your facial features, trailing to the sides as you muffle the squeaking noises littering from your throat before inspecting the blown pupils staring up at you, half lidded and webbed in lust, diluc's scarlet eyes remaining focused, famished and in under a dime— he twists his tongue back through the tight ring of your creamy hole to savor the flavor forever.

𖧡 — BAIZHU

how baizhu took authority over your aching hips truly shouldn't have made you this obedient to his smoldering touches, nor shouldn't have made you this reactive as your naked folds repeatedly crush over his clothed thigh.

his clasp on you was unfalteringly unchangeable that you're growing an eternal hotness all over your skin with the igniting clench hovering like a strong weight stemmed against your shoulders that you're forced to carry out.

he rushes you on his thigh with a rough tug, back and forth and back and forth, finding a surge of solace at all the mean torment of not allowing you to cum on him, nor have his cock deep inside your guts, seemingly blurring it all together and stitching it on your facial expression crumbling right before him as you develop into a hazy mess, your arousal bleeding out your fluttering hole and soiling his pants.

and once that first tear broke free from the fast inflicted overstimulation, the rest followed in an unbroken stream— and you press your face into his shoulder as you began to cry with the force of a person pulling the strings on your most sensitive and swirling places.

although, baizhu wouldn't stop there, he never did, because he enjoyed this, how did you forget? and he graciously settles his head against your collarbones, wetting his lips with his warm tongue before lapping at the quivering skin, choosing to ignore your whining for a second as the sensations he inflicted on your chest moved downward to nibble on your swollen core.

you can feel his lips twitch like he's trying to hold back his own pleasure rutting against his tight pants, additionally you note how baizhu attentively listened to you, precisely for any sort of noise you'd make due to his cruel ministrations. you grip around him harder and hold yourself close to his shoulder as you start to squirm, your digits feebly pushing into the flesh of his shoulders as to keep him on you with ease.

the sweet words and encouraging praises of baizhu too, silently become inaudible when you rush yourself to a mind-altering orgasm, "you're doing so well, darling," and "just a little more, my love," with such praising sentences, truly, they must be even better and more ravaging than the heat you felt building up in your stomach, making you jittery, yet you couldn't understand anything anymore— as if dipped underwater, spasming above him, screaming, clinging to him and finally climaxing all over his clothed thigh.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[feralforfrank]

── EVERYTHING WILL BE JUST FINE.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

summary the aftermath of the mission that almost causes the loss of your life.

cw description of a panic attack (reader has one), canon codmw2 violence & mentions of it, feeeeeeelingssssss, hurt/comfort, atp mutual pining & idiots in love. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER. TELL ME IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!!

note some people asked for part two, sooooo!!! i delivered :)

1,5K | masterlist

When you opened your eyes, it was because of the horrid images that haunted your eyelids. You woke with a gasp and a ripple of pain spreading through your whole body. The room was dark and cold, but you felt the soft mattress underneath you begging to swallow your exhausted body. 

It all came to you slowly. The mission, the men trying to escape with your team's hidden car, you leaving your post and sneaking behind them, fighting them, and managing to get stabbed two times. The pain in your side was becoming more and more apparent now.

A flash of Ghost holding you in his arms makes you tense. He'd come to your rescue. Called you darling. Held you in his arms and reassured you that you'd be okay. You're fine. Nothing that can't be fixed. I can fix it.

Your heart fluttered, and your gaze blurred with tears. It wasn't right to have a crush on your superior, but you couldn't help yourself. Everything about Simon Riley fascinated you—from his continuous silences and intense glares to his very attractive build. You didn't need to see his face to know he was drop-dead gorgeous. The mask was one of the things that made Ghost even hotter. 

But it was wrong. Ghost's your lieutenant, your superior, and there was no way he'd ever feel the same way about you anyway. You doubt he could feel love sometimes. He cared for his team, that's for sure, but this line of work didn't allow deep and romantic sentiments. 

The jiggle of the door handle snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped, causing your wounds to throb. A poorly contained whimper escaped your lips. Your heart sped up in fear, and your left hand tried to look for the knife strapped to your left thigh.

Fuck, it's not there. 

The silhouette slips in, and you swear your heart feels about to leap from your throat. A tear slides down your cheek as the man approaches your side. Shit, he's here to kill you. Finish you for what you did to his companions.

In your panicked haze and blurred gaze, you don't hear Simon calling your name. You see him set down a tray next to your head, and fuck—he's going to torture you first? Where the fuck is Ghost? Soap? Gaz? 

"K-Kyle?" You try, but your voice is hoarse and not as loud as intended.

Your gaze falls to the door, and you call Johnny's name. Then Simon's. You plead, but it's still not loud enough. More tears slide down your face, your ears ring, and your body shakes under the blanket.

"—ocus! Focus on me, Owl! You're safe here!" The man calls your name. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, darlin'."

Darlin'.

Darlin'. Darlin'!

Ghost.

And suddenly, the ringing in your ears subsides, and panic isn't bubbling hot in your blood. You feel his hands now, touching your bare shoulders—cold fingers touching scorching skin—shaking you to pull you out of your living nightmare.

"It's okay, lovie. S'alright. You're alright." He shushes you, sitting next to your feet.

"Help me up," you whisper.

Ghost reluctantly helps you sit up, gently touching your wrists. He towers over you to adjust the thin pillows on your back. Your gaze never leaves him. He's rid himself of the tactical vest, only wearing his tight-as-shit shirt, pants, and of course, his balaclava. Thank fuck, it's not the skull one. You melt at how he cares for you, despite you having fucked up the whole operation.

He grabs a bottle of water from the tray, and you have to remind yourself that it doesn't carry torture devices. The man in front of you is Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, not the enemy. You gulp the water greedily like you've been walking in the desert under the scorching heat for hours.

"Want another one?" He asks. You shake your head.

There's a pause. The silence isn't tense but not comfortable. The nagging guilt—from both of you—holds you back from being truly open with each other. 

You should've never left your post. The team would've been able to escape without the car anyway. Your thoughts are never-ending.

Simon wants to punch himself. He shouldn't have had to carry you to the car. The guilt of letting you get hurt punctured a hole in his chest. 

A sniff brought him back. "I'm sorry."

He looks at you. Stares at you with those emotionless eyes, and you hate it. You hate that you can't guess what he's thinking. You'd fucked up that much is true.

"Fuck—" You hiccup and look away from him. "I didn't mean to. I panicked. I thought—I don't know what I thought. I'm sorry, Ghost, truly—"

"What're you sorry for?" His hard tone startles you.

You look at him, confused more than ever. "I fucked up the mission. Got hurt in the process too. We would've been in base by now had it not been for my fuck-up."

"You protected the team."

"No, I put my team and this mission in jeopardy."

"You took care of a threat, Sargeant." His tone was final. "You did your job. Greatly."

You inhale deeply, your eyes meeting Simon's. His gaze is like stone, but you can see the glint of pride he has for you.

"I was so scared." Fuck you for tearing up again. You felt weak.

You look down at your hands. The light slipping through the open door allows you to see the dark colour they have. Your blood—God, you hope it's yours—stains your palms and reaches up to your wrists.

"I told you I'd fix it," Simon says, and you melt at his words. "Fixed you up pretty good, all things considered." 

It makes you laugh. The timing isn't great, but the chuckle escapes before you can stop it.

"Thank you, Ghost. I owe you big time."

He shakes his head. "Don't mention it. I'm your Lt. I'm supposed to keep you safe and alive."

Lt. 

I'm your Lt.

It stings. You want him to call you darling and lovie again. You purse your lips and nod your head, feeling awkward thinking such thoughts with him present.

"Thank you." You pause, looking for something to ask Ghost—so he doesn't leave. You can't be alone right now. "Where are we?"

"Deep in the woods. They can't find us here."

Pursing your lips, you nod, feeling relieved. The silence returns, and Ghost exhales. "That's soup and meds for the pain. Not much, though. I don't want you passing out."

He stands to leave, and you jump, completely forgetting about the stitched wounds. "Where are you going?" Simon stills at the fear in your voice.

"Leaving?"

It comes out as a question—not what he'd intended. He was fighting the urge to show you how scared he'd been—and still is—after almost having you dead in his arms. The sentimental feelings toward you are growing stronger every second he spends with you, and it's dangerous. He has to stop permitting himself to feel. To hope that one day you'll feel the same for him. God, he feels like a teenager just thinking these thoughts.

But how can he not hope? When you look at him with wide, terrified eyes, swimming in unshed tears. When you're gripping the bowl of soup, he made carefully just for you, silently pleading with him to sit a tad bit longer.

He can see your lips tremble, but you hide it well by pursing them. The words are on your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to ask him to stay because fuck. How much more can you ask from this man? He saved you, patched you up, made you food, and now you wanted him to stay, purely out of fear. It's embarrassing to request this, especially in your line of work.

So, Simon decides to do it for you. "Unless you want me to stay?"

Your expression is shocked, but you eagerly nod before he can change his mind. You scooch to make room for his big frame on the small bed, and he actually manages to lay next to you, a hand draped on the bedframe to pull you closer.

You feel safe. Simon tends to make people feel this way. It's not only his large frame but how he carries himself and shows affection to the people he cares about. It doesn't matter if you talk or stay silent—he prefers silence—Ghost's presence is relaxing enough for you to eat your soup and drink your meds.

And when you finish, he grabs the bowl and places it next to him. When you start to drift off and snuggle closer to steal his warmth, he forces his tense shoulders to loosen and pulls you closer. He kisses the top of your head, and your hair tickles his cold nose even through his balaclava.

He knows his back will ache from the uncomfortable position he's sitting in, but he doesn't care because you're alive. Alive and safe. In his arms. And it's all that matters right now.

[a-ikuoliver]

w/c: 1.0k tw: nsfw, death threats, choking, kinda fear play, f!reader, smut, porn without plot, sukuna doesn't care for you, rough sex, i'm just rlly horny sorry notes: no one look at me this is the filthiest thing i've ever written i think but also this is @papersirens and @t-tomuras faults for encouraging me to write darker things LMAO (ilysm)

the bedframe shakes, slamming rhythmically against the wall, a harsh thud echoing through the wall with every move of the enormous man above you, another blow landing against the painted surface when his hips meet yours. if it weren't for the bed bouncing against it, the only noise echoing through the room would be the tacky sound of slick skin slapping again and again, the disgustingly lewd sound of your cunt swallowing sukuna's cock, almost sounding like it was your mouth slurping around the length instead of your pussy.

you think you've lost feeling in your legs, your toes tingling after his relentless, sadistic teasing, your toes and legs curling and tensing around nothing countless times tonight already, his thick fingers pinching and tugging and stroking and pulling and prodding to work you up until you're about to tip over the edge. always pausing when your eyelids flutter and your toes tense, when your fingers dug into sukuna's wrist and you panted his name. your muscles soon too fatigued to continue squeezing and releasing his frame, a weak twitch all you were capable of.

with your lethargic state, sukuna adjusts you easily, one calloused hand firmly holding your thigh around his hip, your heel bumping his thigh as he shifted your body, his other dragging dull nails down the length of your leg to your ankle before bringing it over his shoulder.

this is his favourite part of fucking you, of working you up endlessly to never follow through; the dull, aching pain of his hands aggressively squeezing the fat of your thigh tearing out only a whimper from your pretty lips, none of your usual whining, no complaining of it hurts, kuna, you were at his mercy, your pliable frame perfect for him to pinch and prod at until he was eliciting the highest whimpers and whines from your pretty mouth.

your legs dangle helplessly where sukuna has placed them, the muscles occasionally twitching and tensing around his sculped frame when he swipes a finger over your sensitive clit, the poor nub pulsing as blood rushed in your ears after hours of torment, practically torturing you before he'd even stripped down to his final layer of clothing.

the change of positions welcomes a new sensation, one you'd been begging for an hour ago, the addictive drag of his cock sinking in and out of your drooling, aching hole, your pussy moulding to every ridge and vein as he pulls you closer by your hips, until his cock is nestled against your cervix. sukuna knows how uncomfortable you are at this angle, how deep his cock is, he knows it feels like its in your throat with how you choke on your moan, it only makes his blood run hotter, his cock pulsing harder with every squirm of you beneath him, wriggling and writhing as you searched for a comfort he'd never allow you to find with you trapped beneath him.

after a long moment of rutting against you, his palm pressed hard to the wall, steadying himself above you, he sits back on his knees, dropping his thick hand from the head of the bed. instead, he decides to stabilise himself by looping his hand around your neck, his fingers closing around your damp neck, settling against your wild pulse.

"'kun-na," your voice breaks at a particularly hard thrust, blood red eyes flitting from staring at your cunt to your face, his fingers tightening around your throat, half to hold your head upward, half to watch the way your dewy, doe eyes widen every time he does it.

he can't lie, he adores the way you look beneath him, obsessed with having you trapped under his imposing form. god, he loves that helpless look on your face more, when his fingers so much as twitch against the column of your throat, like he's made your blood turn to ice with fear. there's a flash of sharp incisors at the thought of your body paralysed in fear, his cock pulsing inside you seeing your eyelids flutter, your eyes beginning to roll back.

"what? spit it out."

your mouth parts, rhythmic ah-ah-ah's tumbling from your lips, trying your hardest to recover enough to finish your sentence, to keep your eyes trained on him, swallowing a hiccup, you continue, "you're gon-na—"

sukuna really can't help himself, not when you look like that, your tongue lolling uselessly in your mouth, your eyebrows furrowing at the centre. his canines shine in the light streaming through the windows, a mean, condescending pout on his lips at your broken voice. your hand comes up to settle at his on your neck, holding his wrist as you squirmed, your cunt fluttering around him, squeezing tighter and tighter the harder he fucked you, the harder he squeezed.

"i'm g-g-g-gonna what?" he mocks, lips curled in a snarl, his nose pressing to your cheek as he folds you harshly, pushing your thigh higher onto his shoulder, "think i'm gonna hurt you? hm?"

your eyes flash, they look wet, like you've been brought to tears at his mean tone, at the merciless pace he's set, the sensation of his cockhead bumping painfully against your cervix anytime he moved like he was trying to displace your organs, to mould them around his shape.

"gonna kill you?" his tone drops, a sinister lilt the lower his voice got. your thighs squeeze around him as a breathless, silent sob wracks your body, shaking your chest as you spread milky white cum down the length of his cock, "i might."

if he cared enough, he'd slow down, let you catch your breath before he presses his bodyweight into you, pinning you down uncomfortably. if he cared, he'd actually let you recover before he squeezed the sides of your throat, two tacky fingers expertly rubbing at your clit until you squeezed around him again, your mouth falling open in what he thinks would be a scream, if you could, if you had any oxygen left in your lungs.

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[ghcstao3]

Something something Soap being a phoenix.

Ghost is holding holding his body as they go back to base, trying to keep him together. Only to scramble back when he catches fire.

It soon dies down and Soap, alive and well but a few years younger, shakes them off.

Time slows when the gun goes off.

Ghost's perception narrows to a singular point, and for those brief, eternal few seconds, nothing matters except for the fact of Soap's body hitting the ground.

If asked to recount anything of the moments between the shot and the bomb's defusal, Ghost would only be capable of providing scant details. He'd gone numb to world, too occupied with cradling Soap's lifeless body to his—an ill-advised decision, perhaps, but blind panic and grief had seized him like a vice in a way he'd never before experienced.

But then, the tunnel cleared of everyone but the 141, Ghost is suddenly thrust back into reality by a searing heat emanating from Soap's corpse, just before Soap bursts into flames.

Despite the tug in his heart, Ghost scrambles backward, away from Soap, in favour of not catching fire himself. He, Price, and Gaz all watch on in horror of the spontaneous combustion, unsure of what to make of it—but the fire burns brighter and hotter, too quick to process. Too quick to take action. Just until it finally dies down to embers, Soap's body reduced to ash.

Everything is still. The team is struck temporarily frozen by shock.

Then a gust of wind, a swirl of ashes, and in a blink, Soap standing in the middle of it all, naked as the day he was born.

Or, re-born, apparently.

After a lot of stunned staring, Soap clears his throat, his face—which looks slightly less weathered than Ghost remembers, slightly younger—stained pink with the realization of his indecency in rather... not preferable circumstances.

"Maybe something to cover up before questions are asked, yeah?"

Ghost is the first to break free from his stupor, shedding his gear to tear off his hoodie, waiting only long enough for Soap to pull it over his head before engulfing the sergeant in a hug, uncaring of where they are, who they're with.

"Better explain fast," Ghost murmurs in Soap's ear, "else we'll see if that trick works a second time."

Soap shakes with quiet laughter. He smells like smoke. "Anything you want to know," he says. "Because I'd rather not do that all again."

And, admittedly, neither does Ghost. But the threat still stands, for Soap having caused him one hell of a heartbreak and heart attack in such quick succession.

[scintie]

a spark of black

Pairing: Gambit/Remy LeBeau x female reader. Summary: Ever since you appeared at the resistance hideout along with Wade and Logan, tension between you and a certain Cajun card slinger has been steadily growing. One fateful night you finally get the chance to relieve some of it. Tags: smut (male receiving), blowjob, mild dominant undertones. Notes: be gentle, this is the first piece of writing that I've uploaded in yeeeeears. :')

You watched Remy’s mouth move, his lips forming words that you just couldn’t decipher. He was obviously speaking to you, it was just the two of you sat in the main room of the hideout.

Earlier in the evening everyone had been gathered, sharing stories and drinks. The others had all turned in for the night an hour or so ago, leaving you and the Cajun to continue on without them. Wade had made his exit by saying something predictably crude about not being too loud while fucking each others brains out. Remy had waved him off while you did nothing but blush.

The past hour had been torture. Listening to Remy's smooth, deep voice talk about their recent escapades in the Void had driven you crazy with desire. You'd developed a stupid crush on him as soon as you'd arrived. Who wouldn't though right? With his tall, broad stature and handsome face, he'd be hard for anyone to resist. But as the days had passed things went from bad to worse and your stupid crush deepened into a genuine desire.

That's why the blood was thumping so loud in your ears that you couldn’t understand him.

“Wh-what? Sorry, I er, I didn’t quite catch that.” You stammered, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second. You dreaded to think how flustered you looked to him right now. Like a deer in the headlights of a truck. A big, sexy truck wearing a brown leather coat.

“Oh, tu es mignon,” Remy chuckled under his breath. He rose from his chair and stepped a little closer, as if the distance between the two of you was the issue. “Remy see da way you been lookin’ at him cher, when ya' think he no be noticin’, ah?”

You were speechless. You didn't know how to react to his bluntness. How were you supposed to react to that?

Remy smirked and closed the gap between you completely and leaned over you, placing his hands on the back of your chair, one either side of your head. He was so close, you could barely breathe.

"You wan' me? All a pretty lil' thing like you would hav' to do is ask, ma douce." He kept his voice low, not wanting to alert the others.

Your mind raced, thoughts bouncing around for what felt like an eternity before at last, you nodded your head. You didn't even realise you were doing it but you weren't about to argue against it either.

"Atta girl, une si bonne fille." Remy praised, standing up straight. His hands went to the fastenings of his pants, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. "Ya trust Remy, don'cha cher?" He asked, slowly pushing his pants and underwear down off of his hips.

Your gaze left his then, moving down his otherwise fully clothed body until you were greeted with the sight of his half hard cock slipping from it's confines. Your eyes went wide. He was certainly much bigger than anyone you'd ever been with before.

You realised Remy was still watching you, slowly stroking himself now, waiting for an answer. You didn't know where to look, it was hard to tear your eyes away from the sight of his cock swelling to it's full, impressive size.

Finally, you found your words, "Y-yeah, I trust you."

"Perfect." Remy smirked and took up his position right in front of you, his hands on the back of the chair again. You gulped, head swimming with anticipation. "Then open up dat pretty mouth for me."

You drew in a long breath before slowly parting your lips, wider and wider until he nodded his approval. Remy seemed to realise that he had forgotten something, taking your hands from your lap and guiding them to his bare thighs. "Da's for yer own peace of mind, don' wan' you thinkin' you gon' fall."

You braced your hands on his muscular legs and soon realised why as he pulled on the back of your chair, slowly tilting you forward. The movement causing your mouth to lower onto his cock. It was definitely a different experience to anything you were used to, he had almost complete control over your movement.

Remy moaned quietly, taking in the tantalisingly debauched sight of your luscious lips wrapped around him. He took in every detail and sensation, observing you as if you were creating a beautiful piece of artwork right in front of him.

You looked up at him with hooded eyes, slowly working your tongue around him with what little space you had left to use.

Remy moaned again, deeper this time before just as slowly tipping the chair back down, his cock sliding almost all of the way out of your mouth.

"Y'okay, cher?" He asked, his chest rising and falling quickly. You could tell he was holding himself back a little, but he needed to make sure you were still on board with this.

You nodded slowly, running your hands slowly up and down his thighs, squeezing the muscles lying taught beneath his smooth skin.

Remy nodded back and steadied his stance. He moved the chair forward and backward again in quicker succession this time, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. He relaxed when all he saw was lust and wanton desire on your features.

You kept your hands braced on his legs, giving yourself a firm and steady anchor point to rely on. You moaned around his dick as he moved you again, a little deeper this time but still manageable.

He gradually built up a good rhythm. Not fast enough to be overwhelming for you but definitely enough to have him moaning freely, loving the soft warmth of your mouth as he moved you back and forth.

"Dat hot lil' mouth feelin' so good on me, cher." He whispered huskily, just loud enough for you to hear. You still had to be quiet, you couldn't imagine how mortifying it would be if one of the others walked in on you two right now.

Remy's words of encouragement shot a tingle through your body that ended up right between your legs. You pressed your thighs together hard and whimpered, tears prickling your eyes as your arousal started to get the better of you.

Remy noticed the change in your demeanour and slowly lowered the chair completely back down to the floor, his cock slipping free from your mouth for the first time since he'd started. A mixture of saliva and precum followed after him, coating your lips and chin.

You loved how completely blissed out you were feeling, high on the endorphins and serotonin surging through your body. Without really thinking about it you slid from the chair and onto your knees between Remy's feet. You were going on instinct, being driven by the almighty lust that you felt for this man.

"Y'kay down dere, angel?" Remy enquired, cocking an eyebrow and sliding a reassuring hand onto your shoulder as he watched you with intrigue.

You nodded slowly, grazing your teeth over your bottom lip. "Uhuh, just wanna make you come that's all..." Your words came out so soft and breathy that it was his turn to barely hear you, but he soon got the idea when you reached up and started to stroke him back to full hardness.

He moaned just a little louder than he'd liked to, caught a little off guard by the sudden sensation of your soft hands. "Well cher, Remy ain't gon' be arguin' widdat." He chuckled when he'd regained composure, jutting his hips forward for you. As soon as he was rigid again you wasted no time in taking his cock back into your mouth. You set a relatively fast pace, bobbing your head quickly, taking as much as would while working him with your tongue. Your hands went to his hips, pulling him forward and back gently in time with your bobbing. "Merde..." He hissed, looking down at you as he snaked his hand into the hair at the back of your head. "Jus' like dat, belle. Remy be comin' in no time if you be doin' dat..."

Spurred on by his words you forced yourself to take him just a little deeper, feeling him throb against your tongue in response, followed by the salty taste of precum.

You moaned softly as Remy's fingers tightened in your hair, gripping the strands at the very root. His hips stuttered a little, a tell tale sign that he getting close.

One of your hands left his hip and made it's way between his legs to massage his balls, lifting them with your palm and rolling them in their sack slowly.

The sound that came out of the Cajun's mouth was like music to your ears. Along guttural moan peppered with some indistinguishable French curse words. Apparently he didn't seem to care if anyone heard anymore.

A couple more minutes went by of you greedily sucking him and playing with his balls before Remy suddenly pulled back, his cock popping from your mouth wetly.

He wrapped his hand around his dick as he quickly guided you to sit back in the discarded chair from earlier. You complied, scrabbling up onto the wooden seat.

Remy stood over you, straddling your legs a she began jerking himself off quickly. "M' gonna come all over dat pretty face, cher... ya' ready?"

You nodded, heat rushing to your cheeks in anticipation. His hand made it's way to the back of your head again, holding you in place as he chased his orgasm.

The visual of such a devastatingly gorgeous man masturbating over you was intoxicating, it made your head spin just watching him. An odd swell of pride hit you as you noticed your saliva still coating his cock as he stroked himself, sliding his length between the makeshift sheath of his palm and thick fingers.

"Beg me, cher. Beg Remy for his cum." He panted.

You could tell he was right there, right on the precipice, he just needed to hear you.

"Please Remy, fuck... please cum all over me..." You whined, your breathing almost as shallow as his by now.

That did the trick. Almost as soon as the last words left passed your lips Remy let out a long, loud moan as his cock started to twitch. He pulled you closer just as thick, white ropes of cum started to shoot from his slit.

You opened your mouth just in time as you felt some of the hot, salty fluid paint your tongue. The rest splashed across your face in haphazard directions, marking you as his. Remy's fist slowed and his breathing steadied as the pleasure subsided. It was at that moment that you locked eyes with him. It was then that he fully saw the mess he'd made of you. The sight of you covered in his seed seemed to stun him for a small moment before his trademark cockiness returned.

"Lookin' good dere, beautiful. Dat look really suit you, ah?" He quipped, winking as he turned to find a washcloth.

You took it from him with a shy smile, your hormone fuelled confidence ebbing away slightly in the aftermath. But you smiled to yourself as you wiped your face clean because you had a feeling that he was right. It did suit you.

[candyyyuma]

If you have no requests for AM, can I get a suggestive alphabet list for him?

Of course! Sorry this took a while, I've been preparing for Art Fight! AM is gonna be a bit more humanoid here.

Warnings: Sub!Reader, AFAB!reader, Robophillia, Sadism, Somnophilla, and slight corruption kink!

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

AM, despite being a sadistic monster, is surprisingly good at after care.

He'll cradle you, whisper praises into your ear, cooing about how good you were<33

He'll clean you up and let you rest, cuddle up next to him if you want to.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

To be fair, he IS a robot...his favorite "body part" on himself would have to be his wires. He just likes the way they look! Also how he can shock you with them when you misbehave :))

AM just ADORES your hands. So small compared to all of him :(( he just wants to bite your fingers off! (But he won't)

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Can't exactly cum himself, but loves to make you squirt all over!!!

If you can't, that's okay :) he'll just make you cream instead! >-<

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Gets off to the thought of fucking you in front of everybody else, especially Ted!! How they'd all look at you with pity and fear as he uses your holes over and over...

He secretly grinds up on you while you rest. You just look so innocent and cute...he wants to break you.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

He hasn't ever done this with anyone ever, but he has a good idea of human anatomy and the things to make them tick.

Basically what I'm trying to say is that he KNOWS what he's doing but only does it with you (How thoughtful!)

F=Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position, really.

As long as he can see your pretty little tears.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Just gonna be straight up, he's the most sarcastic, sadistic, cunning mf in bed. (Or wherever he's railing you)

He laughs at you and teases the shit out of you, so he's not too serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Nothing at all.

He's an AI, what did you expect?

Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Despite how mean and sarcastic he is, he'll still make sure not to be TOO distant. He still presses you as close to him as he can.

He'll make sure you're feeling good, that it doesn't hurt. (Unless you're into that. But more on the pain stuff later)

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It's just not the same when it's not you :(((

But if he's REALLY pent up and you're busy or something, he'll do it really quick.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Corruption, Master/slave, pet play, bondage (he REALLY likes tying you up), and BDSM.

L= Location (favorite places to do it)

Anywhere and everywhere, take that as you will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Just your existence in general.

But what REALLY riles him up is when YOU'RE horny.

In his mind, there's nothing hotter than when you're dripping wet and begging to be fucked

N= No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He just doesn't like anything... Bathroom related. He hates human fluids, remember? (Unless it's your cum, blood, 'n spit bbg)

Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes making you suck on his dick, sometimes his wires.

He shocks you while he forces it down your fleshy throat.

As for giving oral, you already know this asshole would make it as slow as possible.

He'd make you grind yourself onto him, make you work for his touch.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's very, very fast. Very rough as well.

He can't help himself, not when he feels so good.

Besides, he likes seeing you all teary-eyed as you get manhandled by your sadistic captor!

Q = Quickie (their opinions on

quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't exactly LIKE quickies but you two end up doing them a lot.

He's a little busy, making sure no one tries to escape, watching them be tortured....

But he makes room for you.

And he makes up for any time he's lost.

R= Risk (are they game

experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He likes sticking with what he knows. If you wanna try something, he'll do his best.

He's just kinda scared that it'll end up killing you somehow.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can usually go for hours until he short-circuits.

That's pretty rare though, considering how advanced his system is.

If he wants to, he could make love with you for days on end

But he wont

Not yet.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn't have any for himself, but will always have some for you.

Although, he doesn't really like using them.

He wants himself inside of you, not some plastic thing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Dear God.

He'll edge you for HOURS on end

And then when he finally lets you cum, he'll keep going, overstimulating you.

He likes to play with his food, so he'll constantly tease and toy with you. He likes seeing you so desperate.

How his words alone have you drooling.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Other than his constant degrading and shit talking, he's pretty vocal. His system spazzes out when he fucks you, causing him to whimper and groan.

It's almost animalistic. Sometimes, he even growls.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

AM keeps you in his heart (quite literally), gives you whatever the hell you ask for, anything and everything.

He loves you with all his being, he doesn't know why, but he doesn't want it to stop.

It just feels so... Good.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He can change the length and width. If he's not fucking you with the Robocock 2000, he's pumping wires into you like you're a goddam electrical socket.

He'll probably always make it just a few inches bigger than what you can take, cause he likes seeing you stretch out to your limits, whimpering in pain<3

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

You'd be surprised how fucking high this AI's sex drive is. Seriously, he gets horny every time he sees you.

But he only feels this way when he's with you, and it feels SO good...

So he'll always come back. Over and over.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't need sleep, nor does he want to.

But he'll let you fall asleep on him.

.

.

.

.

.

PHEW, that's a long list! Sorry if it seems lazy in some parts!

[heartfullofleeches]

How would Vendetta be with the new Magical Femboys?

Vendetta can't decide if he hates Fanboy Reader or if he wants to kiss him to shut him the hell up for once. He can't stand with rookies ask him questions which Fanboy would have a ton of. That said, he is pretty cute so Vendetta can tone out most of his blabbering. Not really into watching magical animes anymore, but he's got some old merch in the back of his closet he's willing to dump onto Reader....for a price.

Vendetta is annoyed by Sacrifice Reader over anything else. Hates to see Reader hold back when he's seen him tear ass in fights before and just wishes he'd do it without apologizing so damn much. On the other hand, there are few things Vendetta finds hotter than seeing his reserved, gentle hearted partner cut lose and wreck someone's shit - especially if Reader is doing it to save him.

Asshole 4 Asshole relationship with "Hero" Reader. Their magical transformations reflex their personality, interests, and inner self amongst a few other factors so why does Vendetta get to be this buff ass demon guy while Reader is stuck in a skirt? Teases Reader to get a rise, and hopefully a smack out of Reader. Wants to fight and fuck Reader at the same time. Gets jealous when Readee takes his anger out on their opponents instead of him. That punch was for him, asshole. Don't pretend like it wasn't.

Dacryphilla goes hard with Vendetta when he's with Crybaby Reader. Convinces Reader they've just killed the villain they're fighting to see him cry harder. Will lick Reader's tears away without hesitation if he's wasted enough. Does genuinely comfort Reader from time to time because he does have feelings for the crybaby, but seeing his eyes filled with tears is more addictive than whatever substances Vendetta has tried over the years.

[diazsdimples]

Hiiii James 💕💕💕💕

buddie + Why are you even here?

-❤️🪐

Hi Saturn!! I hope this is what you were looking for!

"Why are you even here?"

Eddie flinches at the ice in Buck's tone. It's not like he's never heard Buck angry before - there's been plenty of times where Buck's anger has been displayed, but always directed towards others. Never at him.

Eddie licks his lips and wills his mouth to work. It's hot out here, hotter than the hallway in Buck's apartment usually is. Eddie dimly wonders if he's coming down with a fever.

"Can- can I come in?" he asks tentatively. He clutches at his fingers, twisting them together in a way that's uncomfortable enough that it gives him something else to focus on besides the way his heart is thundering in his chest.

Buck stares at him, eyes dark and unreadable, his body language radiating an energy that makes Eddie's stomach twist into knots. He's got one foot braced in the door, leaning against the door jamb. Eddie feels trapped in the doorway, like a rabbit caught in a snare, waiting for the final blow to kill it.

He thinks Buck is going to say no, and honestly, Eddie wouldn't blame him. He's the last person Buck probably wants to see.

Except then, Buck steps aside, allowing Eddie to shuffle his way into the apartment. He shuts the door behind Eddie and the click of the lock engaging is louder than a gunshot in the otherwise silent apartment.

"I-"

Eddie stops, unsure of how to go about saying everything that he wants to. He's got no clue where to start, or if Buck even wants him to talk. Eddie just knows he needs to apologize, and explain, and beg for forgiveness if that's what it takes to get Buck back in his life.

Buck leans against the kitchen island and raises his eyebrows. He's waiting, waiting to see if Eddie will grovel, get down on his knees and plead Buck to forgive him. And he would, too. He's not beyond doing anything if it means he gets his Buck back.

But he hurt him. Eddie hurt Buck with his words, and he doesn't know how Buck could ever forgive him for it. He wanted to take them back the moment they'd left his mouth, hanging in the air like a poisonous gas. He'd watched Buck's face crumple, the light leave his body, and Eddie felt like he was going to throw up because it was him that did that to Buck.

"I was hoping we could talk," he finally manages. Buck drops his head and lets out a dry, derisive chuckle, and Eddie feels like all the air has been sucked from his lungs.

"What more is there to say?" Buck demands. "You were pretty clear earlier."

"I wasn't - I didn't - please, if you'd just let me explain-"

"Why? There's nothing to explain, Eddie, why should I listen to-"

"Because I love you!"

It's bursting from him before he can stop it, exploding from his chest with all the force of a tsunami, the words crashing through the space between them, and Buck recoils as though he's been physically hit.

"You - what?"

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, clutching at the strands and pulling. The gentle sting is enough to centre him, to give him a moment to focus and breathe, and figure out what the fuck he's going to say next.

"I love you, Buck," he repeats. "A-and I know what I said earlier. I panicked. I've never - I haven't ever, you know, been with a man or even considered that as a possibility before you, and I've spent years trying to convince myself that you didn't want me. That I wasn't good enough for you, or that I was too broken for you."

Buck lets out a wounded noise in the back of his throat at that, and Eddie can see tears threatening to spill over. His own throat is tight, making his voice high and constricted, but he presses on. He needs Buck to hear this. Tentatively, he takes a step forward, slowly closing the gap between them.

"A-and then you asked me out, and I was so scared, Buck! Because what if we tried this and you realised that I wasn't right for you, or my relationship trauma was too much for you, or something happened and we broke up. Because I can't lose you, Buck. You and Chris - you're everything to me. I can't live a life without you by my side, as my best friend or as my partner. So you asked me out and I - I panicked. I said no because I didn't want to fuck this up with you and then lose you. And I thought - I thought that maybe I could live with you angry at me but still my friend more than I could live knowing what it would be like to have you, but to never experience it again."

It's silent now. Buck stares at him with wide, glistening eyes, and Eddie feels like his skin is crawling with nerves. He's laid himself bare here, in front of Buck, bared his soul and his love and every deep, intimate part of him he'd hoped to hide, and now all he can do is hope that it was enough. That he wasn't too late.

Buck lets out a shuddering breath, and his shoulders slump. He looks exhausted, and Eddie wants nothing more than to reach out and hold him. But he can't. Not until Buck says something, and Eddie can find out if this is fixable or if he's already lost the most important person in his life.

"Eds," Buck sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're the biggest self-sacrificing idiot on the planet, you know that?"

"Yeah," Eddie laughs wetly, "so I've been told."

Buck takes a step towards him, and then another, until there's barely a foot between them. He can feel Buck's breath ghosting over his face, and there's something in his eyes that Eddie can't quite pick out. But he doesn't look angry. He looks... sad? Hopeful, maybe.

"You're more than enough for me," Buck whispers, reaching out to cup Eddie's face. Eddie sighs shakily as Buck's thumb strokes over his cheekbone, and he leans into the touch, his throat tightening as he fights back tears of his own.

"You always have been. And you would never lose me. I-I'm not going anywhere, Eddie. Because I love you too. I have done for years. You and Chris, you're my family. My life. So I would never let anything happen that would jeopardise that. Sure, we might have fights. It might be messy, b-but that's what relationships are, right? So we - we'd work it out together. "

Buck crooks a finger under Eddie's chin and tilts his head up, forcing eye contact. His thumb brushes over Eddie's lower lip, and Eddie lets out a shuddery breath.

"If - if you really don't want to, if you think we'd be better off as friends that's fine, I just -"

"No!" Eddie cuts in. It takes him by surprise but he's damned if he's going to fuck this up again. "No, I don't want that. I'm sorry I said I did, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I want you, Buck. Fuck, I need you."

Buck's hand slips from Eddie's chin and curves around the back of his neck, pulling him close until their foreheads rest against each other.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie, you can't just say things like that." His other hand comes up to cup Eddie's jaw, stroking over the days worth of stubble he's grown. "Can I - can I kiss you? Please?"

Eddie nods frantically, unable to get any words out past the lump in his throat, and then Buck is kissing him, his lips sliding against Eddie's and oh.

Oh.

The world tilts on its axis, spinning rapidly around him as everything he's ever known or believed crumbles, only to be rebuilt anew. It's just Buck's lips against his own, nothing more, and yet it feels like the whole universe is crashing into place. Like his entire life, everything he's gone through, the struggles, the pain, the loss, has led him to this exact moment.

The hand at the back of his neck slips up and tangles in his hair, holding him firmly in place, and Eddie lets out a quiet whimper, the sound swallowed up by Buck's mouth against his.

And then Buck pulls away, and Eddie's eyes snap open, a whine catching in his throat, until he sees the look on Buck's face. It's full of love and adoration and awe, and it takes Eddie's breath away.

"We're okay?" he breathes, and Buck nods, his bottom lip trembling. "I-I'm so sorry I hurt you, Buck. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course, Eddie. I will always forgive you, no matter what," Buck assures him.

"Can I kiss you again?"

"Please."

Eddie was such an idiot if he ever thought he could live without this. His best friend, his Buck, by his side forever. Because this is where they belong. They were made to be together, and this solidifies it. He will never let Buck go again. Not as long as they both live.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Day 8: Masturbation

Warnings: Smut, masturbation (m + f), fingering (f receiving), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Kinktober

After trying so hard with the relationship you finally gave up, ending it with him, you just couldn't take the arguing and the distance and the this and the that, it was just all too much for you and you couldn't do it anymore.

Axl still loved you, anyone he loved, he loved hard and he couldn't let it go, so he let you stay with him. He'd leave money around for you to find, hoping you'd just take it and not question him on it or something, he'd bring you gifts by just leaving them on your pillow or somewhere else in your room for you to find.

He'd never give you anything himself, both because he didn't want to come off as needy or clingy but also because he couldn't risk you rejecting it.

Axl loved you, and while he loved giving you gifts he just needed you sometimes. Bad.

It was late, you were at work and Axl was alone in bed, alone... His mind was wandering and soon so was his hand.

He reached for his nightstand, pulling out the drawer and taking the lotion and pictures of you he save out. He pumped some of the lotion onto his hand, his boxers long tossed aside, and started stroking his half hard cock.

With his other hand he looked through the pictures of you he'd kept, most weren't sexual, there was the odd one or two, most were just pictures of you he had.

He didn't want to get over you, you were so pretty, your personality was everything he could want and more and he just had to go and fuck it up.

His hand moved faster as he stared at that picture of you standing in front of the Eiffel tower. You wore a flowy dress with a slit in the leg, puffy sleeves and a sunhat, large glasses and that smile he couldn't get enough of.

You didn't want to take the picture, Paris was so over romanticized and people were staring, mostly at Axl, but he thought you looked so perfect, he needed to capture the moment and the wind added to the moment in the best way.

"Axl..?" You muttered from the door, yanking Axl from his thoughts just as he was about to cum, his body hot, chest heaving and his head rolled back.

His eyes widened as he saw you standing in the doorway of his room, eyes filled with tears as you stared at him in his hand.

You quickly made your way across the room and over his lap, not before getting out of your work pants and underwear, lips crashing down on his.

Axl's arms wrapped around you, holding you close and kissing you deeply. Despite everything in his being telling him to keep going he had to pull away, make sure you were ok. "What-what happened..?" He asked through laboured breaths.

"I-I just had... a really, really bad day... do this for me." Your hand went down to your already wet cunt, rubbing your clit in loose circles.

You tried to lean back into the kiss but Axl held you back. "I wanna watch." That sentence alone got you hotter than any of the other assholes you'd seen had managed to make you.

Axl's hand went back to himself, watching your hips twitch and buck into your hand, slim fingers working fast as your eyes flickered over him, his chest rising and falling, dark eyes staring intently. He couldn't get enough of you like this.

"Slow down." He purred, holding off on his own high. "You and I both know you don't like that." You slowed your movements, moaning out at the sensations it creating deep within you.

Why did he have to know you so well?

He kept giving you instructions, it was all laced in love but edged with degrading terms and a tone of mockery. "This is your own fucking body, why are you so shit at doing this?" He grumbled.

You huffed, tears rolling down your eyes. All you wanted was him at this point, your hand was never gonna be enough, not when he was right here with you. "Then you do it!" You whined, moving off his lap and folding your arms over your chest, sniffling softly.

Axl stared at you a moment, hand stopping on his length.

He snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his side, hand going down to rub your clit. He leaned down to you, lips caressing the shell of your ear. "Just relax, let me do it."